Samahin
by Lady Lener
Summary: The Halloween Great Sabbath is going to be celebrated at Black Manor. A young Narcissa meets her mysterious fiancé, Lucius Malfoy... COMPLETED.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, that belongs to J.K.Rowling. Don't sue me**.

_Samahin_

_written & translated into English by Lener _

_N/A: I'm sorry for mistakes, but English is not my language. Please, be patient. __Thanks to Saeko-chan for beta-reading_.

The breeze smelled of incense, a familiar essence composed by sage, laurel and nutmeg. The young witch felt her soul quivering. The Great Sabbath was going to be celebrated.  
During Samahin, the night of spirits, engraved pumpkins brightly sneered as a guide in the only hour when the Veil between the Worlds grew thinner, in order to allow the dead ones to visit the living.  
The ancient rituals and the precious paintings of the Sacred Books recalled this magic truth, but those holy manuscripts were now forgotten papers because of the ruling ignorance of half-breeders and muggleborns. Mudbloods had no history nor familiar memories, as her noble father used to complain disdainfully.  
The dusk had stretched a starry mantle on the Scottish oak woods, land of druidic and lost traditions, which were secretly guarded and officiated by the ancient and noble House of the Blacks, in the flowing of time. And she was a Black.  
She was proud of it.  
She was scared by it.  
A low, gurgling laughter mocked her thoughts. The flame eyes of her beautiful elder sister met her celestial iridium.  
"You don't have to shiver, Cissy. There's nothing to be feared" Bellatrix smirked and kept on combing her sister's long honey-blond locks.  
She did not answer. Her blue eyes looked over the nighttime green valley where pomegranates and candles were offered to the growing moon.  
Her sister laughed again. It was a sweet and mocking sound, but one that could also assume the sharpest tones. Bellatrix shut the curtains closed and pushed her in front of the big mirror.  
"Are you not impatient? I was so thrilled for my first Samahin!" Bellatrix added lightly, while she was untying her heavy autumn dress.  
"Halloween is celebrated also at Hogwarts " she remembered her laconically and so earned an angry gesture from Bellatrix.  
"Nonsense! What a nonsense! Dumbledore's little parties are an offense to ancient rituals. That old idiot! It's only a vernacular muggle contamination!"  
Narcissa did not answer, again.  
There was no sense in opposing to Bellatrix's wills and words.  
The blond witch had learned it was wise to fear the lunatic anger of her eldest sister.  
She shivered when her dress slipped down. Naked, she waited for the traditional purple woolen tunic, but Bellatrix did not give it to her.  
Immovable and thoughtful, as impenetrable as always, Bellatrix observed her body like a sweet mother who discovers that her only daughter has finally grown up… and like a sculptor in front of an artistic work.  
Narcissa blushed and Bellatrix's laughter ringed again.  
"My little Cissy!" she hugged her and then showed the mirror "It seems almost impossible to tell we're sisters, doesn't it?" she considered with malice and placed a cheek against hers.  
Again Narcissa did not say anything in a silent assent in front of the eloquent reflexion of their figures.  
Bellatrix's locks were endless waves of darkness, that draped her diaphanous, perfect beauty like sparkling obsidian. Her generous body and her fleshy red lips had got an almost impudent attractiveness.  
Her sister's ebony eyes beamed with amusement; she could easily guess her thoughts.  
"You do are very pretty, too!" she reassured her with a confident whisper "Your beautiful blonde hair, your blue eyes, your rosy skin…" she let her hands slip from her hair to her slender shoulders, down to encircle her thin waist "So tender and delicate, but also soft and inviting" she lowly laughed "A lovely doll"  
"I am not a toy!" she answered, finally freeing herself from her sister's embrace. She wore her tunic, that covered her with a reassuring warm.  
With an enigmatical smile Bellatrix started braiding her hair with silver laces and jasmines.  
"Oh my, you are so nervous, Narcissa! If it is not because of Samahin… then it's only because of him, yes?"  
There was no answer and the corvine witch laughed prickly for that last silent assent.  
"Young lord Malfoy could not miss the Blacks' Sabbath, but don't be so shaken! We are celebrating the beginning of winter, not its conclusion" she remembered her sweetly, before capturing her look in the mirror and smirking with provocative malice "Or maybe, my little sister, this is what really afflicts you? That today we are not in May and the bonfires we are going to light are not the ones for Beltane Weddings?"  
"Bellatrix!"  
Narcissa blushed for her sister's impudent insinuation, who mortified her with her hilariously tearful eyes.  
She turned disdainfully, tied a berry-garland around her hips and put on a pair of soft bootees.  
"Don't judge everyone taking yourself as a measure! I am not you and lord Malfoy is not _messieur_ Lestrange." Narcissa hissed with the Blacks' typical haughty boldness. It was often her only defense.  
"Oh that's for sure!" Bellatrix mocked her, not even slightly offended by her hostility "If you had at least some hot blood of mine, you would have discovered that Lucius' fame is well deserved. But no! You prefer to behave as a little betrothed virgin!"  
Bewildered, Narcissa stared at her for a moment, before reaching the door in a quick and humiliated escape, with the persecution of her sister's sardonic look.  
She ran down the staircases to the courtyard in front of the castle, that was decorated with ancestral ability in honor of the traditional Celtic New Year's eve.  
The older aunts sang psalms and litanies, getting busy around the main bonfire, that they shrewdly fed with sandarac and copal.  
Little far from the old witches, Narcissa noticed a hooded man. He was extraneous to her blood, but he had been granted the privilege to prepare the infusion of myrrh and mandrake. That was a task the stranger was carrying on with undeniable skill. He hadn't even removed his black hair from his pale and emaciated face not to spoil his own concentration.  
"Severus Snape's talent as a potionist has rightly helped him to earn a prestigious place around the Blacks' cauldron"  
Her curiosity was satisfied by a voice she recognized instantly in its unmistakable aristocratic drawled diction. It could chill even the sweetest words with his indolent perfect tone.  
Narcissa turned around and performed a polite reverence. It was a regard that was not demanded her by reasons of rank, because their blood had an equal and famous purity, but that gesture allowed her to escape the direct meeting with a pair of inflexible silver eyes.  
"Lord Malfoy"  
She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded adult and without fear, but her confidence cracked when the young wizard reciprocated her ceremony and took her right hand to bring it to his lips.  
"Miss Black"  
But instead of grazing lightly its back, he placed his kiss on her palm, tickling the sensitive skin with his hot breath.  
Narcissa felt her hand kept burning even after he'd let it go.  
She concealed her fool uneasiness and turned towards the ceremonies, but her disobedient eyes persevered in secretly glancing at the man standing by her side.  
The dancing light of the ornamental torches made his hair look like platinum threads that went down loose to graze his shoulders, covered by the long and traditional dark woolen mantle.  
He had worn the Celts' ancient robes, instead of the refined and impeccable suits that she had grown used to see him wearing, although she could distinguish the Malfoys' sparkling medallion, despite the fact that Samahin rules forbade necklaces forged by human hands.  
But he was a lord, a peer of her honorable father and the other oldest ones, Narcissa remembered, and as such he had both privileges and duties, although his young age (not even twenty-five years old) induced to forget his powerful position.  
A delighted giggle broke their silence, accompanying the melodies of the dances. Narcissa turned around already knowing she was going to meet her older sister's magnetic beauty.  
Bellatrix was wearing a tunic like hers, only of a darker, bloody shade, and there were delicate ornaments of woven ivy and honeysuckle in her hair.  
As always, she was beautiful and charming and she captured every looks, lighting the desire of all the men.  
_'Maybe also Malfoy's...'_ Narcissa thought, with a sudden acid taste on her tongue, while Bellatrix hugged the noble magician without any hesitation.  
"Welcome Lucius, dear brother" she joyfully told him, flashing a mocking smile seeing the blush that graced Narcissa's cheeks.  
Once she had expressed to her sister her own embarrassment for those inopportune allusions, but Bellatrix had laughed madly.  
_'What nonsense, Cissy! You will marry him and so Lucius and I will become brother and sister according to ancient customs. Why should I keep silent something that everyone already knows?'  
_She couldn't give her a reply.  
Malfoy reciprocated her regard bending himself in a polite hand-kissing, exactly like he had done with her… well, not really, Narcissa corrected herself noticing how he politely grazed the back of Bellatrix's hand.  
Her seductive sister smiled at him and let out a bright, cunning observation of hers, stealing a smile from their guest's lips.  
Narcissa listened to their flowing conversation. It was full of names she knew very little about, and of allusions she could not intend, ignoring past references about them. She didn't have the complicity that linked Malfoy and Bellatrix, like it was natural to expect from two same-year House mates. She diverted her look, and forced herself to ignore her sister and the flattering attention that the young wizard gave her. She clearly felt that her own presence was insignificant to their eyes.  
She looked at her cousins, who orchestrated a rhythmic melody with castanets and thrills.  
Delicious smiles and graced gestures invited her to dance, but Narcissa declined, shaking lightly her head.  
Her woolen tunic would not have hovered like the translucent, enchanting veils of her cousins and she didn't want to offer an awkward show.  
If she had not been one of Orion Black's daughters at her first Samahin she would have been with the dancers, in the center of the circle as the youngest witch and not apart from everybody without any roles.  
Really her screenplay would have had to be inked with much honor, since three pureblooded sisters were a precious rarity among the ancient magic Houses.  
The Sabbath would have had to see her, Bellatrix and Andromeda as the magic pivot of that haunted night.  
Her long eyelashes distressfully screened her look at the thought of her sister Andromeda, the oldest, the one who used to read aloud romantic tales for her. She had promised her that one day they would witness Sabbaths together as the three honorable sister witches described by the Holy Books.  
It will be a unforgettable ceremony, Andromeda had assured her with her beautiful smile.  
But this would never happen…  
_'Thinking about it makes no sense'_ Narcissa considered bitterly.  
Tow notorious absences scandalously stained the purity of her family: her cousin Sirius, who had denied the Blacks' name, although he was their first heir, and her sister Andromeda who had run away years before to give herself to a muggle.  
She shook her head, sending away those thoughts and walked towards an illuminated path, which lead to the woods.  
"Where are you going, Cissy?" Bellatrix asked, surprised by seeing her going away.  
"I'm picking up some mistletoe"  
"Don't be silly! Our aunts have more than enough!" she called back her.  
Narcissa turned to her sister with a poisonous sweet smile.  
"I don't think you have any need of my help to honor our duties as an Amphitryon, my dear sister," she said with a small mocking bow, which caused an angry shine to dart in Bellatrix's dark eyes.  
Narcissa would have been worried, if another detail had not captured her attention: the dangerous ice in Malfoy's eyes.  
He had not pronounced any words, yet his look seemed have the power to make her shiver, as if he had held her physically back.  
Narcissa walked further and her footsteps seemed a run.  
The Sacred Forests welcomed her like a manor and ritual music sounded sweeter among the leafy branches.  
Her footsteps were light on the grass and the lanterns studded the bushes like spellbound luminous fragments.  
The holy incense smoke married to the wooded night perfumes, in a magic and relaxing essence she greedily breathed and that filled her with peace and vigor.  
The path was traced by the knotty tree roots and she asked to herself what spirit would ever be able to wander with anguish and worries in such an ancient and unreal quiet.  
She looked at the colored smokes of the bewitched cauldron.  
The ghosts of their ancestors would be called by the evocations of dances and litanies, not certainly to appearing among owls and other nighttime raiders.  
She tiptoed toward the branches of an oak to pick up some mistletoe, the fairy plant that Druids said to be produced by lightning, since it never sank its roots in the ground.  
Misteloe was born from the most imposing tree that linked the Superior to the Inferior in the creation of a symbolic path for the divine light that generously spread during Samahin.  
Her fingers grazed the mistletoe without gathering it and her sickle did not help her to fill that distance.  
"Hell!" she cursed angry, stamping her feet on ground and shooting a glance of strong disapproval to the unfaithful branch that mocked her stature.  
A husky and dark laughter commented her unnoble impatience.  
A surprised Narcissa turned around to discover lord Malfoy behind her.  
She blushed with embarrassment, asking herself when he had reached her without letting her hear his footsteps.  
"May I?"  
Narcissa offered him the sickle and the wizard cleverly chopped off some mistletoe handing it to her.  
"Thanks"  
"You're welcome" he answered with a light smile that did not reach his eyes.  
Narcissa didn't remember having ever seen one of his smiles sincerely refracting in his eyes, which were always impenetrable like mercurial puddles.  
She felt that cold look on herself now with increasing uneasiness.  
She forcedly smiled at him, walking further into the forest, asking nervously to herself if he was always following her.  
His elegant footsteps were impalpable in a fluid and fleeing gait.  
"I'm amazed, sir" she finally said to break that fatiguing silence "Preferring a walk in the woods to my elder sister's bright company really reveals a rare naturalist taste"  
Again, there was a shadow of a smirk on his lips, but this time it was veiled by an irony that made her feel naïvely childish.  
"Perhaps, Miss Black, to the company of my future sister-in-law I have simply preferred the one of my future wife"  
Narcissa felt a shiver and her stomach lurched at the hypothesis that Malfoy had preferred her to Bellatrix, but soon her eyes resentfully darkened, confiding that Lucius was only teasing her.  
Without saying anything, she kept on walking, hating that frustration that pervaded her for Bellatrix's impudent initiative and unbearably increased by Malfoy's enigmatic coldness.  
With an bitter smile, she had to admit that her graduation at Hogwarts had not changed her emotions, that were the same as four years before. She was only fourteen when her parents told her that she was betrothed to the young heir of the Malfoys, a wedding that would have allowed the alliance between two of the most ancient Houses in ancestral British history.  
_'Yes, Father'_ she had answered with a bow, like everyone expected her to do, but she had felt a dark fear clutching her heart, in spite of the envy and admiration of her friends towards that engagement that linked her to the incarnation of a prince.

A fairy prince, Narcissa recognized, because Malfoy's charm was really undeniable, a perfect beauty with his platinum hair and silver eyes… but also… so cold.  
He was icy and impenetrable, as if the most spontaneous feelings were far away from him.  
She didn't remember having ever seen an emotion altering his face, graven in a perfection of seductive alabaster, or his voice changing from the noble indolence of his high rank.  
Moreover, there were dark gossips that Bellatrix had whispered to her, laughing amused by her scandal and worry.  
_'Lucius is not icy like you believe, Cissy! Don't you know how often the most ardent fire is hidden beneath a layer of ice? Discovering it will be very interesting, my little sister, you'll see!'  
'If you know him so well and you like him so much why didn't you ask Father to be betrothed to him ?'_ she had asked, annoyed by her continuous mocking.  
_'Oh don't worry, my darling, I am not your rival! Besides I really think that you and Lucius will have some beautiful blonde children!'  
_In four years of engagement, they never met, except from official meetings that were requested by familiar honors, and they'd rarely spoken to each other, if not through educate conversations, as required by circumstances and good manners.  
Narcissa wasn't certainly surprised that a twenty-year old lord did not love to indulge in the company of a schoolchild; however… this did not make him less extraneous to her .  
She wetted her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, turning herself to start a conversation that could break such an enervating silence. She was too conscious of his proximity: even the breeze brought her the winding perfume of his musky colony.  
"This is my first Samahin according to ancient uses. It's a shame the traditions are so little celebrated"  
"Courses and appeals of the History" Malfoy considered with prickly lucidity and then added with light cynicism "The most ancient traditions are either transfigured by new impositions or condemned to forgetfulness. The last druidic spell has been the one to transmit by blood the cult of their customs through the flowing of the centuries"  
"Contamination conducts to perdition" Narcissa quoted "Words which are worthy of a pureblooded lord"  
"_Toujours Pur_ is your motto, Miss Black" he reminded her "And it's in your blood… what do you find more familiar to you? The banquet of Hogwarts with pumpkin juice or the dim lights of the Sacred Forests at Halloween?"  
"The answer is quite obvious, in my opinion" she told him caressing with a hand the thick trunk of a centenary oak.  
"If you had officiated to the astral temple of Stonehenge, Samahin would still have appeared you more mystical," Malfoy added and she felt a nostalgic regretful note in his tone.  
"Those rituals have been forbidden by the Ministry… did you witness them?" she asked him without concealing an entangled interest.  
"Once during the last year… with my father"  
Narcissa understood and she did not ask more.  
Among aristocratic rooms, the death of the preceding lord Malfoy was the dark whispered legend of a stake that also Albus Dumbledore's influence had not succeeded to exorcize.  
"There are other recurrences," Narcissa observed adding some lightness to the their words "before graduation I have never been able to participate... Yule at the winter Solstice… Eostar at the spring equinox …"  
"Beltane in May" he added and, for a moment, his silver eyes seemed sparkle with a strange light.  
"Did you participate to the summer Sabbath?" she asked to him, biting her tongue for that question, but also feeling a mysterious shiver for that audacity.  
"I have witnessed the bonfires of the party" he distractedly answered, approaching to the oak against which she was supporting herself, stopping their wandering "But I have not united myself to the Sacred Wedding"  
"Why not?"  
Did she really ask him that? She could not believe it…  
"Because I wanted to wait for the next May"  
His voice was a velvet whisper, Narcissa noticed in a shiver, a quiver that grew when he placed his hands against the oak, grazing her cheeks with his breath.  
She trembled again, but she did not want to draw away.  
Narcissa looked at his eyes that shined like variegated crystals in the swaying light of the torches.  
"The next May… I will participate too…" she nervously told him, but her voice ashamedly sounded as dim as a peeping.  
Nevertheless she discovered a smile on the magician's lips.  
For the first time it seemed a true smile, like a ray of sun on the usual coldness of his face.  
She felt her heart flutter for the beauty of his cheered features.  
"That's why I wanted to wait." he murmured, his lips caressed her cheeks.  
Apart from that light contact he was not touching her at all, yet she felt the heat emanating from his body.  
She had always believed him to be so cold, but now his lips grazed her with such warmness…  
Suddenly she felt the instinct to squeeze herself against Malfoy.  
"That's why…?" she repeated in a whisper, leaving her eyes half-opened when she felt the wizard's breath near her ear.  
"I would allow nobody to touch you"  
She started at those words and the caress of his tongue on her sensitive skin.  
Confused she grabbed his shoulders and felt his arms crush her strongly against himself.  
"Malfoy…"  
She met his eyes that seemed to be burning as red-hot mercury.  
Platinum locks fell on his forehead, shining in the light of the torches like an angelic aureole… although he looked very far from an abstract celestial apparition: concrete, carnal and passionate.  
"You are mine, Narcissa" he told her "you've belonged to me for a long time"  
She rebelled to those words of implacable possession, trying to free herself from his hold, ignoring that little, hidden part of herself that quivered flattered by that ardent tone. However, it was impossible for her to escape from him and she stopped, puzzled, when she felt his lips on hers.  
She blinked and the emotion shaded her light blue eyes to a depth azure ocean.  
He was kissing her, she realized in a shiver, while his lips continued to caress hers with soft persuasion.  
She encircled his neck with her arms, abandoning herself against his body… it was so different from hers… strong and muscular whereas hers was fragile and soft. She sank her fingers in the shining silk of his pale golden hair.  
She startled to the caress of his hands along her back, which modeled her against him, weaving the two of them in her honeyed long hair.  
She blushed feeling his tongue lick her lips and she opened them quivering for the knowledge of his taste, something secret that she wanted to guard for herself only.  
"Lucius…" she breathed, before blinking when she felt deprived of the touch of his lips.  
She met his eyes and the seductive smile that made them shine.  
"Again" he demanded, disorientating her.  
He caressed one cheek of hers and placed his forehead against hers.  
"Say my name again"  
Narcissa realized that for the first time she had spoken to him without a formal filter.  
"Lucius" she repeated.  
He smiled at her, kissing her again and then crossing the tender skin of her neck and biting her.  
She moaned at that starving effusion.  
His perfume stunned her more than the sandalwood incense and his body awoke feelings in her that she had never known.  
Her blood turned into fire and her legs trembled, almost unable to hold her up… she was not surprised to find herself on the dewy grass, kneeing above him.  
Lucius withdrew himself only to caress her with his look and she blushed because of her naked legs, that the tunic had uncovered.  
She nervously wetted her lips, swollen by his kisses and again a silvery light burnt in Malfoy's eyes.  
She saw him loosen the clasp that closed his thick mantle and it fell spreading itself around them.  
"Lucius, I…"  
He hushed her, placing a finger on her lips and tenderly tracing them.  
Instinct brought her to capture the forefinger between her teeth, nibbling it with unaware temptation.  
She found herself again in his arms, his hair tickled her throat, while his hands slipped on her thighs and the tunic went up again reaching her waist.  
She convulsively sank her fingers in his sweater and Lucius withdrew to unlace it, throwing it away.  
She was charmed by the beauty of his skin, which shone like precious porcelain beneath the reverberation of the torches.  
She caressed him with trembling hands… his strong shoulders and his chest… so slender and yet perfectly graven in the lines of the fibrous and defined muscles.  
She breathed into the softness of his skin and her blue eyes sparkled wondering what it would feel without any screens… against her own.  
At that thought, she felt pervaded by an unknown languor, a red-hot shiver shook her, loosening a liquid heat between her legs.  
She closed her eyes, blushing, disorientated, withdrawing a little, but again he held her back … with a kiss… a caress… and she found herself on his mantle.  
The purple wool sensually grazed her, going up on her body and in the end it was abandoned by the roots of an oak.  
It was her own skin the one to be revealed to the swaying light of the lanterns, which gave it rosy tones.  
She uncertainly trembled while Lucius did not touch her, immovable to her side. His eyes burnt her with a caress, from her dissolved honey-blond hair to the harmonious lines of her breast and hips, until the guarded gold between her thighs.  
She closed her eyes blushing with shame, as if the fact of not looking could change the reality of being contemplated in her naked beauty, in the heart of an oak wood with a man… the man to whom she had been betrothed to … Lucius Malfoy.  
She bit her lips, tormented by the torture of his silence that she couldn't interpret.  
She finally tried to hide, but he prevented her action, covering her with his own body and kissing her lips.  
"You are so beautiful" he murmured and Narcissa felt her heart contract to that flattery, quivering when his lips slowly crossed the delicate line of her neck "So beautiful and mine" he added, insinuating a knee between her legs, that opened to welcome him with easiness "Only mine"  
She panted arching against him, the persuasive caress of his skin against her own made her go crazy, enchanting her as a sorcery.  
Her delicate hands grabbed his shoulders, sinking in his silken hair and caressing his strong back.  
"Lucius…"  
She moaned when his lips took their time on her breast, giving a delicious relief to her swollen buds, which tormented her from the beginning of that ineffable torture of gasps and caresses.  
She complained when he moved ignoring her tender attempts to hold him back.  
With frustration she felt him smirk against her skin while he kept on going down along her body, with infuriating slowness but without stopping, caressing her with his lips, tickling her with his breath, enjoying her moans and her increasing passion.  
Narcissa grabbed the mantle spread under them, while the languor that had risen in her from their first kiss now dominated her with an almost painful intensity.  
Instinct imposed her to shut her legs, in the hope of giving relief to the heat that tormented her, but he did not allow it, and his hands slipped between her thighs, inducing her to open them more and more to him, offering herself to him.  
He had said that she belonged to him and it seemed indeed he was reclaimed her, she thought among the sensual fogs in which she had sunk.  
She sobbed, puzzled, when he stopped between her legs, licking up the soft silk of her thighs…warmer and warmer… without stopping… until she heard herself crying for the sweet invasion of his tongue.  
"Lucius, please…" she hoarsely panted, without even knowing what she was imploring, but torn to pieces by a desire that, her instinct told her, only he could satisfy.  
His hands looked for hers, weaving them and then caressing her with his own body.  
Narcissa opened her eyes to mirror herself in his own ones, so ardent to induce her to wonder how she had ever been able to judge them cold: they were gorgeous.  
He was gorgeous, she considered with a smile, admiring his disheveled platinum hair, his intense expression and his perfect body that tightened against hers.  
She lowered her eyelids, breathing his kiss, which deeply distracted her with velvet tenderness, silencing the painful hiccup of their completion.  
She strongly grabbed his hands, while his lips picked up the tears that went down her cheeks.  
"Narcissa… my beautiful Narcissa… I won't hurt you again…" he hoarsely promised her and she believed him, hiding her face against his shoulder.  
"Don't stop…" she finally told him, biting his tender white skin "don't stop… go on…"  
Her words sounded as a prayer to the growing moon of Samahin and they were granted with a more ancient rhythm than the same ritual dances and which grew pressing up to reach an ecstasy that no sorcery would ever equal. They had celebrated the night of the dead with life.  
Narcissa smiled at that thought, while the heat of Lucius' body mended her from the midnight breeze.  
She passed her fingers among his thin silvery locks, removing them from his forehead with a respect that was more maternal than a lover's.  
She tightened herself to him, obeying to a sudden desire of tenderness, now that their passion had sensually been satisfied.  
She felt him laugh slightly, rolling on his back and winding both of them in his mantle.  
Abandoned above him, with her face reclined on his shoulder, Narcissa tasted that calm warmth.  
She felt her numbed body pervaded by a dim pleasure, something new, which reminded her of what she had done… and of how much she had changed.  
She wondered what he was thinking of…  
A shiver shook her and Lucius lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes… icy silver that made her soul tremble.  
He kissed her softly, before getting up and picking up his suits.  
Wrapped up in his mantle, on the dewy ancient lawn, she looked at him getting dressed and she uneasily noted the reddish scratches that she had left on his back in the chaos of the passion.  
She wasn't at ease in that situation that was extraneous to her and that his silence made more anxious. Narcissa shook herself, taking her tunic from where it had been abandoned.  
She was about to get up when Lucius came next to her and lifted her.  
"I can walk with my legs…"  
"Yes, you could" he agreed with indolence, without leaving her.  
"Going back to the Sabbath?" she asked, obtaining as answer a malicious look.  
"We are at Samahin, not at Beltane" he remembered to her with a mocking smirk "If we go back now, surely they'll ask us if we have forgotten this detail"  
Narcissa blushed and agreed.  
She was thinking of what to suggest when a sudden dizziness induced her to close her eyes.  
_'Apparecium…' _she heard and she lifted her eyelids to discover that they were now surrounded by the familiarity of her own room.  
Malfoy put her on the bed, shutting the curtains of the window and turning on the ornamental candles left by the house-elves.  
A sweet perfume of lime and wild rose loosened itself delicately in the air.  
"How did you know where my room is?" she asked him without understanding the destination he had chosen.  
"Bellatrix had prepared everything so that the my room would be next to yours" he answered, laughing at her deliciously surprised expression, that became even more confused when he started to undress himself again.  
"Ma-Malfoy…"  
"Lucius" he corrected, freeing her from his mantle and slipping to her side between the sheets "And Samahin will not finish until dawn"  
"We should honor our dead ones!" she said, without stopping him when he hugged her, but delighted by the renewed contact of their bodies.  
"That's what we have done" he nodded, breathing the intoxicating perfume of her beautiful honey-like hair and receiving a doubtful look from her rare sapphires, the same eyes that had seduced him four years before, although shining in the enchanting face of a little girl… a grown little girl that finally belonged to him.  
"Oh really?"  
"Yes. We have celebrated the night of the dead ones with what ghosts really crave," he confirmed, still tasting her soft coral lips with a kiss.  
"Life…" Narcissa whispered, her arms around his neck and she abandoned herself to him.  
Lucius smiled.  
"Yes. Life"

The end

A/N: The inspiration for the creation of this story derives from Arthurian novels written by Marion Zimmer Bradley.


End file.
